The Importance of Laguna Loire
by Rikku Shinra
Summary: Selphie has always been up for a challenge, especially one that follows the footsteps of Sir Laguna. But soon, things don't add up in the sleepy town of Winhill.
1. Chapter 1

I don't own Final Fantasy 8. Which is incredibly sad.

* * *

 **The Importance of Laguna Loire**

 _Dear Readers,_

 _I started my one-woman worldwide trip as a homage to Sir Laguna, at one time a traveling journalist. It's been over two years and I have finally made it to Winhill. It hasn't been easy, some days I just wanted to give up and go back to Garden. I haven't seen my friends for eight months, other than on a vidscreen, and that's hard. They're my family, but I challenged myself to this. Hey guys! You can visit, I'll email you my address, but the internet is so spotty here it would be a miracle if this even got on the blog. Maybe I'll try snail mail. Yeah, that's more reliable._

 _Xoxo- Selphie._

Selphie huffed, ducking and dodging branches in her escape from a horde of Bite Bugs and a lone Caterchipillar. This was not what her planned peaceful morning was supposed to consist of. The plan was to take pictures of the fields, hike to a nearby hill get a few shots then head back to town midmorning to beat an incoming storm. Mother nature had other plans and the fiends where active before the sun could crest the mountain tops. With all her gear on her using Strange Vision was a hindrance which left her running from the low-level monsters.

A little cardio never hurt anyone, Selphie grunted, jumping over the remains of a fallen pear tree. While not the perfect run she wanted, it was a change in her normal repertoire. Winhill had certainly gotten out of hand just within the short amount of time she had been living in the town. When the town hall struck right pm all shops closed. Even the Inn shuttered its windows and locked the door. In the following weeks, it had gotten worse, the doors locked at seven and anyone caught outside was fending for themselves.

Clearing the orchard was no problem, dust flying up behind her, Selphie slid on the dirt road her truck parked a hundred yards away. So close, yet so far with all the gear. That didn't stop her, she was a Seed, always would be. Tossing the camera bag into the open passenger window, Selphie rounded on the fiends, Strange Vision at the ready followed by a wave of nausea and confusion.

Rain slamming into the windshield brought Selphie from her sleep, nausea ebbed away leaving her confused as to what had happened. Scanning the cab of the truck she spotted her gear in the same haphazard position on the floor where it had landed. She didn't feel any pain other than the remainder of her extensive cardio, but there was blood on the gear shift, on the wheel; it was all over. It stained her white t-shirt and her shorts where now an off shade of brown, she could feel her hair matted to her face from coagulation. The worst part was she could smell it. It was strong and putrid reminding her of the pigs her adopted parents raised for slaughter. It would take weeks to clean the truck, and the clothes where beyond ruined would find a place in the trash bin when she got home.

Reaching forward, Selphie flipped the key forward, the headlights flickering momentarily as the truck struggled to start. With a roar from the engine, the lights illuminated the road and the Caterchipillar from earlier its large body lying across the road in front of the truck dead. Lightning splintered through the clouds, thunder clapping loudly in its wake.

The ride back to Winhill was quiet and slow. By the time she returned to the small town the lights were out in all the homes, only candlelight illuminated the windows, a few children peaking out in awe at the storm.

That's a relief, Selphie sighed, laying her head on the steering wheel as she brought her hand to the interior handle relieved to be home where she could take a long-deserved bath. Both doors creaked, first when she left the truck, running through the tempest and finally as she slammed the door closed after a brief battle against the winds of the raging storm, slamming the bolt on the lock to close.

Behind her the pitch black of night met her, the small one bedroom home chilled due to the weather outside. Groping at the wall, Selphie located the light switch, but each flick just emitted a clicking sound.

"Great!" She huffed stomping away from the wall only to run into her couch. Sighing, Selphie held her arms out in front of her, fingertips trailing over the coffee table through the air wiping away lines in the dust that has taken residence up on the mantle. Berating herself for staying out so long, Selphie squatted beside the gas valve twisting it away from her. The hiss and an eggy smell of natural gas entering the fireplace was a welcoming sound, but the delight she felt as Fire molded over the logs in the hearth was even more enjoyable. It wouldn't take long to warm the tiny home, but the great part of it all – the water would still be able to heat so the bone-melting bath was still a glorious outcome for such a horrible day.

With the fire flickering, Selphie turned the gas off and stood. It was already much warmer, especially with the light casting its orange glow onto the sofa. Making her way towards the bathroom, the sole room separated from the rest of the house by a door, Selphie turned the hot water on delighting in the sight of the steam rising in the firelight.

It wasn't a cannonball dive into the lion claw tub, but it took a leap of faith to sink into the steaming water. It came out in a sharp inhale, which Selphie held as she adjusted to the sudden change from cold clothing to warm water. Exhaling, Selphie began to breathe her body acclimating to the heat and relishing in the fact that the fiend blood was leaving. She could feel the caked-on blood leave her hair as she slid under the water, closing her eyes as she joyfully welcomed the heat into her weary body.

The next morning the sun bobbed and ducked behind clouds, rain ranging from the short burst of heavy droplets to light patterns on the windows. A perfect day to stay inside and go over another article, sort through the pictures she had taken of Winhill in August the first few glimpses of fall in the remote village. It would have been perfect, really. The town was always quiet, but not that day. Even with the sudden squalls, Selphie smirked at the family naming theme, the townspeople were making a loud ruckus. Slamming her notebook closed, Selphie pushed off the couch tossing the pad of paper onto the cushions. Nearing the door, she could count the people rushing by at an alarming rate. Running to and from, chocobo's pulling carts weighed down with splintered wood from the towns small fleet of fishing boats. It was the next cart pulled by a rare silver and black spotted chocobo, the bird owned by the village Mortician. It had a large canvas tarp strapped tight cross the wagon it pulled.

After the cart rolled passed Selphie pulled on her boots not caring that they were still soaked from the night before and grabbed the yellow rain poncho off its hook. Lurching the door open she ran out not caring that her door wasn't closed. Running through the dirt road, mud splashing onto her bare legs, Selphie came to a stop outside of the village center. It was far worse than the small side street she lived on. No one paid her any mind as she moved through the crowd that had gathered in front of the mayors' home. As more town folks congregated, the village women talked amongst themselves bragging about their husbands and sons who had taken part in the cleanup, the elderly men murmured about their days of yore and how they once took on a fleet of Galbadian soldiers in a storm and the young whippersnappers knew nothing of challenging work. Beside them, the elderly woman complained about the weather in their bones and how this would be a ruin to the upcoming harvest.

"What's going on?" Selphie, standing on her tip toes to get a better view, looked at the young woman beside her for answers.

The woman's face pinched into a frown, twisting out of the pinched expression as she saw Selphie, her face washing into one of distress before she backed away. Selphie shook her head, the xenophobia in the town was a horrible disease. It was the man in front of her that, not glancing behind him, who took the time and offered his knowledge. "A fishing boat from Timber sunk last night in the storm. Only three people made it out alive." The man turned back around as the mayor's voice flowed over the town square. "This morning, one died from dry drowning and another is in a coma, he's not expected to live long."

"Citizen's of Winhill, as you see, the storm last night was devastating. It will take us many months to recover from the loss of our fishing boats. As we are all aware there were just two survivors from the sunken boat that washed ashore this morning. It pains me to inform you, but it appears there were over a hundred men on that ship that went down." The townsfolk began whispering, mothers worrying about the horrific sights their children would see. "People, please. Until the rainy season has passed, we must house them. In the spring with the first ships they can leave, if they live that long."

"The last young man that washed up on our shores, well look where that got us. Two attacks from Esthar, what's next? Dollet?" A murmur rippled through the town, this time the Mayor's lame attempt to regain peace was met with lurid ambivalences from the people.

"I can house one!" Selphie shouted having pushed her way to the front of the crowd due to not being able to see nor hear. The people fell silent, all eyes turned to her as they backed away. The mayor lifted a questioning brow.

"Are you sure Miss Tilmitt?" The mayor swallowed eyes scanning the crowd for another host.

Selphie's hair bobbed as she nodded, "yes. I don't mind extending my assignment." In the far back the murmuring began but the Mayor held his hand up the sound dying before it made its way to the front.

"If you insist Miss Tilmitt. It would be a relief to your neighbors." He waved her to move closer, his wife offering a Botox smile to the young woman. "Nancy, can you take Miss Tilmitt inside? We will house the other poor soul."

Nancy nodded waving Selphie ahead of her into the Mayor's mansion. "Just this way Miss Selphie. Thank you so much for volunteering. It's very gracious of you and everything, it's just a shame you have to take time out of your writing to help out." Nancy crossed her arms as they walked through the hall and into the parlor. "But we do thank you, everyone will be less burdened with the knowledge that you are taking care of one of these young men."

Selphie smiled, "it's a pleasure. With what Winhill has done for me, it's the least I could do."

Nancy nodded as she passed Selphie heading towards the town doctor as he looked over his newest patients. "How are they doing?"

"For now, they both need rest. I understand Selphie will be watching one of them?"

Nancy's sneer faltered for a moment before the strain of appearing friendly returned, "Yes. She volunteered, isn't that nice Doctor Lincoln?"

Lincoln glanced to the woman by the door, smiling paternally at her. "Very kind, with your work, are you sure you want to do this?"

"Yes, this will give me a chance to experience a Winhill winter! I heard the town is striking during the Yule season." Her bright smile elicited a chuckle from the Doctor. Nancy, on the other hand finally dropped the fake smile, rolling her eyes the woman looked down at the two sleeping men. Selphie stepped beside her, eyes drifting from the restless young man to the other who remained motionless. "I feel like I'm picking out a pet." She chuckled running a hand through her hair. "I can watch him; will you be over often to check on him?"

Lincoln nodded "Oh why yes. He has a few broken ribs, I just cast sleep on him is all." Lincoln smiled, "the other young man has a broken leg. Leviathan must have been on their side last night." Nancy cleared her throat. "I'll have him moved to your place, this was very kind of you Selphie."

Selphie shrugged, smiling, "its fine. It's the least I could do for Winhill, with all they have done for me." Glancing one last time to the sleeping man she brows drew together, the haze of confusion returning. With a quick shake of her head and smiled at the Doctor, "I'll see you guys here in a few then."

"Yes." As Selphie left the Doctor glanced to Nancy who refused to look at the doorway where the younger woman had just stepped through. "You can't be pleasant for just a few minutes can you?"


	2. Chapter 2

By weeks end Selphie had expected the motionless body to stir, arise, grunt, groan, moan, or even snore; yet nothing had. For a few broken bones, she had expected something, anything. Alas, it was early Saturday morning when Doctor Lincoln appeared at her door, ashen-faced and remorse full.

"The other one died." The words hit home. She did t know the man, from the gossip around town he was well on his way to recovery. "Drown as well." Lincoln frowned as he opened his medic bag pulling out the bare necessities. At late on set, water in the lungs. Dry drowning.

Selphie nodded, folding an arm around her chest while holding a steaming cup of peppermint tea in the other. In her hidden arm, she repeatedly clicked her ballpoint pen, teeth biting into the soft skin of her inner lip. Her Seed training made her cautious, she was watching everything the doctor did. Not that she distrusted him, her anxiety grew as he hummed and nodded with each move of his stethoscope. She was worried, she had lost sleep, time skipped meals. What if he, too, had died and she was tending some corpse?

The snap of the bag brought her attention back. "have you been using potions or cure on him?"

Startled Selphie stood straight, pushing away from the counter top. "Cure. I didn't want to leave him, in case something happened."

Lincoln nodded, turning away from her, "any Sleep?"

"Not since you used it at the Mayor's home. It should have worn off by now."

Lincoln's head bobbed in agreement. It should have worn off after a few days. With no signs of abating the Doctor turned to the host, "he should be fine by himself for a few. Why don't we go to the Items shop? You need out as well, staying inside at Autumn end isn't good."

Selphie, eyes lingering on the body in her bed, let out a defeated sigh. She knew she needed a break, even if it was just fifteen minutes. Setting her cup of tea down, Lincoln smiled as he held out her peacoat helping her into it. It was the perfect shade of navy, a gift from Rinoa and Squall, and it had served her well from the Northern most Trabia to Southern Winhill. It was especially nice in the winter, with its fur-lined hood and the layer of down between the lining and outer wool.

"Miss Tilmitt, your health is just as important as that young man's. Please keep that in mind." Selphie took his offered arm, depositing her house keys into the side pocket. As they walked down the street the few people who braved the chilling air stopped to look and watch the pair. Selphie had known of the xenophobia in Winhill, had previously experienced it first hand when she came years ago during the Sorceress War. Then it did not bother her, but now it was grating on her nerves.

Having lived in Winhill for the last six months one would think the same people would have gotten used to her, but no. It only got worse.

"Miss Tilmitt?" Lincoln held the door, like the ever-proper gentleman he was, and waved his arm outwards welcoming her into the sweet smells of potions and the tangy heat of Esuna. The shopkeeper was more pleasant that her neighbors and smiled at them both.

"Well, Dr. Lincoln, what a delightful surprise."

"Edith," he smiled siding up to the counter. All the better to flirt with the shopkeeper. Turning away a smile formed on Selphie's lips as she took to perusing the assorted items in the store while Lincoln worked his magic. "Eddie, you always take such loving care of me." Selphie looked away from the Bandersnatch horn powder towards the good doctor. Edith, in her youth and now with her hair pinned back in large looping curls, was a sight to see and she supposed Lincoln had been dashing if it was not for that all to familiar lecherous grin. It reminded her of someone she would rather not think of. A lone cowboy. Instead of passing a hundred girl to the blushing woman, it was fifty and the promise of a date that evening.

"Of course, pending no house calls my dear." Edith had more than obliged the good doctor throwing in a few remedies as well. The woman caught Selphie in her peripheral, "it's horrid what happened to that other boy."

"He wasn't much of a boy. Thirty-five."

"Younger than us both Linc. Hopefully, this last one will pull through. You're going to take care of him, right Selphie?"

For the first time in months, Selphie smiled. She hated the formality of constantly being called 'Miss Tilmitt' and hearing her name was a refreshing change from the others. "Of course, I'll do my best."

Edith was a cheerful soul as she escorted the doctor and journalist from her shop handing both a bundle of fresh bread. Behind them the bell chimed as the door was pulled shut, Lincoln offering her one of the Saunas Edith had prepared.

"This should do the trick. Now, Eddie has nothing for pain, and the pharmacist is closed on Saturday. If you need anything, at all. Just call." Lincoln turned away, pulling the collar of his trench coat up in a vain attempt to shield his face from a gust of wind. "Oh, and Miss Tilmitt, I suggest stocking up on food. Heard there is a storm moving in."

From behind the bay window in the living room, Selphie watched the charcoal clouds tumble and swirl, below them a sheet of snow engulfing the bay, eventually, that would turn to a thick sheet of ice perfect for skating. Shivering, Selphie pulled the last blanket she had, the others draped over the man that took residence in her bed, tighter. How she missed her apartment in Balamb, with its moderate climate and sweet sea breezes and how whether it was July or December the sun shined perfectly through the Livingroom windows.

The summer had long since faded from Winhill leaving the interior cold, even with the roaring fire the small home still had a biting coldness that lingered in the walls. Sighing, Selphie pulled the curtains closed, walked to her sofa, and sunk into it. All day she had planned to work on her next article, but every time she sat down with the rough draft before her, she found something else to occupy her interest. Besides the cold, she kept glancing to the Esuna on the nightstand the fire catching the shimmering blue-green liquid inside.

"It's now or never." With a huff, she stood. The easiest way to use the item was to drink it which meant sitting the man up and looking down at him it would be hard but doable. The first attempt winded her, it was like moving a water-logged mountain, the second attempt was slightly better. But she ended up pinned between him and the headboard. Spending the third attempt to get out from behind him, the fourth time was out of pure luck that she managed to prop him up against the headboard with some pillows acting as a cushion. To stop him from doubling over, Selphie pushed his head backhand resting against his forehead.

"Bottoms up." The Esuna disappeared, the fine rivulets soaking into his skin while a majority flowed easily into his mouth. As the last of the curative disappeared, Selphie placed the empty bottle on the nightstand. It was easier to lay him down and she returned the pile of blankets to their earlier position of being tucked in around him.

As Selphie lay on the couch later that night having taken two of the thicker blankets, she watched the fire until her eyes slip shut the sound of wind howling and ice pelting her window her lullaby. The sound of thick splatters, like a can of paint having tipped over from a high ledge, jarred her awake. The fire was only embers now, the cold quickly filling the space. In the meager light of the small fire, she could see the man hunker over the side of the bed, retching onto the floor.


End file.
